


A Necrology of Noteworthy Novels with Normal Covers

by stuck_in_the_void



Category: death by dying, death by dying podcast
Genre: OW, Podcast, angel of death - Freeform, death by dying - Freeform, death by dying podcast - Freeform, just the OW going about his normal shenanigans, obituary writer, the obituary writer - Freeform, the violence really isnt that graphic but there are some murder descriptions - so be warned, there are so many references in here that if you can name them all i will give you a goat, wtnv references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21732907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuck_in_the_void/pseuds/stuck_in_the_void
Summary: This is basically just a short extra episode of Death By Dying that has nothing to do with the events of the podcast but was just a fun experiment in writing like the Obituary Writer. There are quite a few Night Vale references too, because honestly why not?
Kudos: 3





	A Necrology of Noteworthy Novels with Normal Covers

This is the obituary of Emmet Harlen, 42, who died early Thursday evening, when the stars had not yet begun to fill the looming abyss above us. Elliot led a quiet life, occupying his time with collecting antique globes and volunteering at the zoo. His colleagues would have likely described Ernest as being shy, as people often do when they never take the time to actually get to know them. However, they never would’ve been asked since Everest led an isolated life that was spent completely under the radar of all of his peers, teachers, colleagues, and also unfortunately in the end, fellow zoo volunteers. The personification of boredom would have probably done more interesting things then Elliot ever had. His death had appeared to be the most interesting thing to ever happen to him. 

Ravensberg Law Enforcement made the official statement that Emmott must have accidentally fallen into a tank containing two hungry dolphins while volunteering at the local zoo. But since even while dying no one took notice of him, his cries for help were ignored. The large amount of blood produced by this affair quickly filled the dolphin enclosure, and eventually alerted some nearby volunteers to the situation. However, I completely disagree with this “official statement.” I’m pretty sure everyone but Ravensberg Law Enforcement knows what a gunshot wound looks like. It looks like a giant hole in the back of Emmet’s head in which blood and other viscous things have egressed. Since Ravensberg Law Enforcement was not planning to, I inquired into the whereabouts of Ernest’s house so I could harmlessly poke around for some more information.

Everest lived on Khoshekh Street alone. Khoshekh Street was like an old book an aunt gave you years ago that you keep meaning to read but never got around to. It all appeared as dull as Egbert himself with every house as unmemorable as the last. I pulled up outside the house that was supposedly Emmet’s. The front door was already open, yet when I called out nobody answered. So naturally, I began to innocently snoop around the first floor. 

The life of an obituary writer is no day of out at the aquarium with the dolphins and your three kids. It’s more like an awkward dinner party with a bunch of strangers, whose grandfather has just died. Spicing up my life with a solving a murder case was exactly what I needed to get out of my rut. Yet the house was appearing exceptionally ordinary. That was, until I crept up the stairs with the stealth of a mould that forms in week old bread. Upstairs had one room – a dark room that could have easily appeared in the nightmares of a horror movie villain. Every inch of every wall was covered in sketches of a horrific beast. The sketches were crude, charcoal scribbles, yet they each had a consistent image. Picture after picture showed twisted antlers on an elongated face and voracious eyes. It was a waking nightmare. 

In the corner of the room was a man holding a shotgun and muttering to himself incoherently. I badly wanted to run but I had to know who else happened to be suspiciously trespassing in Everett’s house. I approached the crouched figure. My mouth began to form some words of accusation, but before I could, the light from behind me began to retreat. I was plunged into an indescribable blackness. Everything became quiet. Not the wheezing chirp of a diseased bird. Not the whisperings of a mad man in the abandoned house of a dead man. Even the wind had grown silent. Before me appeared a pair of glowing eyes.

Perfect circles, beautiful and terrifying. 

The figure’s form slowly began to take shape. The outline of twisted antlers. An elongated face. Two voracious eyes. The ground opened up beneath me like a gaping maw. I felt the disorientating sensation of falling and the painful lurching of suddenly not falling anymore – I was in my bed. This was more madness then I had ever encountered before. Was it a dream? Lingering in the back of my mind was a feeling of a circling vulture over a corpse; as if I had just awoken from a nightmare. Light began to crawl lazily across me – it was morning. The next morning‽ 

As I got up to pour myself a glass of brandy and stare as broodingly as I could out the window at the abandoned doll factory across the street, I pondered my discovery at Egbert’s property. Had Elliot been murdered by the crazed man that I had seen lurking in his house? What was that thing that I had seen? Why were there so many drawings of it? There was a loud banging behind me. I swung open the door with as much smooth confidence as I could muster while drinking at 8am, yet it all disappeared like the alcohol in my cup as I saw who had been knocking. I would have recognised that face anywhere. I knew what I needed to say. In fact, I had a speech prepared for this exact situation. It had to do with the battlegrounds of right and wrong. It was a positively spectacular way to convince someone to confess to murder; I was looking forward to it. Yet I was stopped in my tracks, when the man introduced himself as Steve Carlsberg and admitted to shooting Elliot. I was looking forward to that monologue. This man was undoubtedly a monster. 

Apparently Steve murdered Everett on the orders of a horrific creature to whom Steve was sworn to serve. The creature was annoyed by Emmet’s attempts to hunt it down, and Steve dared not disobey the beast’s command. An interesting motivation, yet still murder. Tortured by guilt, as a book cover tortures its readers to open it – Steve could handle it no longer and asked me to turn him in. Don’t judge a book by its exceptionally dull cover, because you never know what may be inside. Whether it is an obsessive demon hunter, a crime-fighting obituary writer, or a murderous Steve, you really never know who is only keeping up a façade. As we entered the station, Ravensberg Law Enforcement quickly hid a book entitled, “Unrobed: My Affair with A Celibate Monk.” After a quick explanation and a surprising lack of questions, Ravensberg Law Enforcement put Steve in custody and went back to his book. Another case closed.

This has… (sort of) been an obituary of a man named Everett. Gone, and easily forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> I got a 'B' for this on a school assessment, so do with that knowledge as you will. It is intended to be funny but my teacher certainly did not think so - please let me know if she was wrong.


End file.
